


Ivy in the Snow

by RileySavage7



Series: The Premier Wrestling Federation [4]
Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Drama, Gen, Multi, Training, Wrestling, complicated family dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-23 07:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileySavage7/pseuds/RileySavage7
Summary: In Ivana's world everyone else is just a hindrance. Her main goal in life is to reach the highest possible peak so that she can finally look down on everyone who disregarded her.If it really is a jungle out there, watch out for the poison Ivy.Follow Ivy Buthelezi-Vida as she makes the long journey from the indies to the big time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yup - finally joined the PWF. Making my mum proud since '97.
> 
> Happy reading and look the kid up on the Tumblr: RileySav7

CHAPTER ONE: BEGINNINGS

Minnesota. Of all the places in the world where this training facility could’ve been, it ends up being in Minnesota.

Ivy held on tight to her backpack’s straps and started walking faster, cursing at herself internally for leaving her skateboard at the motel. She didn’t know the Forge would be this far. The stupid motel owner had said it was a ten-minute walk, but twenty minutes on and she still wasn’t there. She did, however, see the building. A huge, multi-story building painted in a grey she could only describe as ‘ashy’.

Ivy didn’t think she would ever be on her way to a prestigious wrestling academy, but like most times with the pastel pink haired woman, her imagination had been the only limitation. She always looked at life and went ‘that’s it, it can’t get much better than this’ – usually she was wrong.

When Ivy got the call that she had been handpicked to showcase her abilities at the Premier Wrestling Federation Training and Developmental Centre, she nearly cracked a smile. It had been the closest thing to good news since... Well, since last September. Of course, Ivy wasn’t shocked that she got the invitation – she was after all one of the hottest prospects at her local wrestling federation in San Diego. Everybody kept going on and on about her and how incredibly gifted she was. The compliments went to her head, naturally, Ivy had always been the attention-seeking kind. That would explain so many things about her: the pink hair, the tattoos, the way she  _ always _ had to make an entrance. And that, in a nutshell, is what made her such an interesting wrestler. She had the moves, she had the charisma, but it was her constant need for attention that turned her into the force she was well on her way to becoming. Sixteen years of karate and judo made her dangerous. Captaining the girls’ basketball and soccer teams at high school and college level made her competitive and her hunger for success and need for validation made her deadly.

-

When Ivy finally reached the entrance of the forge she was greeted by a ragtag group of women and men all standing around, waiting for the instructor to... instruct. Ivy slipped into the room, trying to blend in as best as she could.

The muscular, middle-aged instructor began with a loud, barking order.

“New trainees over here NOW!”.

Ivy rolled her eyes at the man’s unnecessary display of testosterone, but still, the fair-skinned woman joined the loose semi-circle of trainees that had formed around him.

“My name is Ken Shamrock and I am the head instructor here at the Forge. Over the next two weeks, it is my job to break each and every one of you. To make damned sure that we push you past your limits”. Ivy thumbed over her eyebrow, something she did when she was nervous. In actual fact, Ivy had a lot of strange mannerisms that expressed how she felt at a particular time because her face would almost not allow any emotion to shine through. Thumbing across her eyebrow when she was nervous, winking her left eye twice when she was shocked, chewing on the inside of her lower lip when she was happy (mainly to suppress her smile).

“You all got an invite because you all come from accomplished athletic backgrounds. We have Olympians, NFL players, indie wrestlers, and more with us. And I’m here to tell you that NONE of that matters from here out”. 

Ivy shrugged. Of course, he says that now, but she knew how this thing usually worked. Olympians, NFL players come with an established fan base. Indie wrestlers like her did have fans – lots of fans who went crazy whenever her music hit and who waited outside the venues, hoping to catch a glimpse of her – but that meant nothing. If your fans weren’t gathered in their millions on your social media, they didn’t exist.

It also helped if you were pretty. Pretty people could get in anywhere. 

Ivy wouldn’t call herself ‘pretty’ – not because she was low on self-esteem or had some weird complex about her weight or height or hair type – but because she really  _ wasn’t  _ pretty. She had short light pink hair and tattoos that made her mother cry the first time she saw them. They were NOT happy tears. Ivy had the word ‘golden’ tattooed just above her left eyebrow. The inky letters followed the same curve of her eyebrow so it ended up looking like a double eyebrow. She had an arrow tattoo on the left side of her jaw with the arrowhead facing her mouth. The letter ‘x’ was tattooed underneath her right eye and her favorite inky creation of all, a rose tattoo on her throat with the thorny vines making their way down her collarbone. Ivy Buthelezi-Vida wasn’t pretty – and she didn’t want to be.

Ken Shamrock was still speaking, but Ivy had zoned out. She could only listen to a man for so long. She did hear him say something about completing a 3 mile run in 30 minutes and that they could either do 12 laps on the Forge track or run down to Mauer Street and back. She opted for the track – she had been out in the Minnesota streets long enough, thank you very much.

-

She ran her first three laps with real conviction and real speed, but she phoned in the rest of the laps to preserve energy and to NOT look like some pathetic try-hard. 

One of the other trainees, a guy Ivy didn’t really feel the need to look at twice, made comments as she ran by. Ivy ignored him of course. She was an expert in the art form known as ignoring idiots. After finishing her laps, the lanky girl in all black gear sat down on the floor with legs crossed. The people who chose to run down to Mauer Street were all back. Amongst them was a petite blue-haired girl who had caught the attention of an even shorter woman. She looked familiar, but then again Ivy was never good with faces or names... or anything that required caring, really.

“Oh look the mute is back”. Ivy perched up and like everyone else on the main floor of the Forge, watched as the blue haired one stared down at her feet.

_ Weak _ . Ivy furrowed her brow and reached into her the moonbag around her waist to take out her earphones. She never got the chance to plug the jack in, because she was distracted by the unmistakable sound of a hand connecting with flesh. Blue Hair had a friend – a very toned, very tall friend who didn’t seem like someone who wanted to talk things out.

“You don’t say another goddamn word, you understand?”, the brunette growled at the much shorter, way less intimidating woman. The whole of the Forge went quiet, clearly caught off guard by what had happened. Ivy gently tapped her fingers on her kneecaps, her eyes darting from the tall brunette to Blue Hair and back. After another shot against the head of the petite woman, the brunette retreated and spoke to the hopeless little lamb she had just stood up for.

“That was so freakin’ savage”, a bleach blonde woman seated next to Ivy said in a hushed voice.

Ivy watched the two women some more, shrugging at the random next to her.

“Kids do the darndest things”, she simply said as she put the earphones in.


	2. Blue-eyed Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which we delve into the psyche of everyone's favourite narcissist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ivy's back! She has her own time I'm afraid. 
> 
> I recommend listening to Florence + The Machine whenever you read 'Ivy In The Snow' because that sets the perfect mood, imo. 
> 
> Enjoy

Ivy hated the motel she was staying at. It smelled of moth balls and she was pretty sure there had been chalk outlines on the floor of the place. A black light would probably reveal all the disgusting secrets her room held, she thought to herself.

But there was one thing that made Ivy choose this particular run-down cesspool.

It reminded her of home.

The carpets, the curtains, even the smell of moth balls. When she opened the door of her motel room for the first time, she was taken back fifteen years ago.

Fifteen years ago things were much simpler than what they were now.

Her father wasn’t in jail. Her mother wasn’t off her rockers. Keketso was still alive.

Ivy poured more vodka into her coffee mug.

How did they end up like this? How did none of them survive Kee’s death?

Ivy almost never thought about her brother anymore. Since his death last September, she’s been either drunk or in denial. Refusing to believe that he really was gone. Refusing to believe that she was on her own now. -- that she would have to face the world on her own.

 

- _Flashback_ -

“Did you two wash your hands? You’re not getting food if your hands are dirty”. Ivy’s mother Katerina spoke with a slight Croatian accent. The accent was phasing out slowly – twelve years in America did that to a person.

“I did, and I made sure Ivana did too”, Kee said. He pulled out a chair and sat at the table, eagerly awaiting the dinner his mother had prepared. 

Ivy sat opposite him. The presence of her father at the head of the table causing her to tense up.

“Did you two do your homework?”, he asked in _isiZulu_. Ivy and Kee both nodded.

“I’ll check after dinner”.

The four of them ate in silence. Ivy preferred it, but she knew her mother didn’t. Her mother wanted them to be an actual loving family. Instead they were three people being ruled by a tyrant. Three people who had to act a certain way or fear the wrath of Joe Buthelezi.

A man who forced both Ivy and Kee to learn and speak _Afrikaans_ and _isiZulu_ so that they would stay close to their African heritage. A man who forced Kee to wear blue and play with guns and forced Ivy to wear pink and play with dolls.

This was their father. 

But instead of respecting him and loving him – Ivy and her brother feared him. They feared him because they knew how violent he could get. They had the scars to remind them.

After dinner, Katerina went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. The kids were still seated at the table with Joe. 

“Keketso, the wrestling is starting now. Go and switch on the tv” he instructed the eight year old. A quick glance over at Ivy made her sit up straight. 

“You go to bed. You know you can’t watch wrestling with us. Go pack your bag for school tomorrow”.

Ivy made her way to her room, looking back once and seeing her little brother give her an apologetic shrug. 

Much later that night her door was quietly opened. She lifted her head from the pillow and wiped the sleep from her eyes.

“Hey, are you still awake?”, Kee asked in a hushed voice.

“I am now”. Ivy sat up and watched as her brother lingered by the foot of her single bed.

“Do you wanna know what happened?”

“Did Undertaker retain?”

Kee nodded enthusiastically. 

“Hell yeah!”

\---

Ivy’s not quite sure when she passed out or how much of the day had been a dream, but she woke up in a crappy motel in Minnesota though. That part seemed real. 

Another reality was that she finished a bottle of vodka in one afternoon. Shrugging, she checked her phone for the time. 

**21:32**

Ivy opened up her phone’s gallery for what felt like the first time in months. She scrolls through the pictures and stops when she sees a selfie of her and Kee. Her hair was still bleach blonde back then. She remembers the day the picture was taken very vividly. She told Kee she was off to the parlour to get a tattoo. He tagged along even though he had an intense (and slightly irrational) fear of needles.

When they got to the parlour, Kee was completely shook when Ivy described the tattoo she would be getting. A giant rose right on her throat. With colour and shading – the works.

“Ivy... this shit is forever. Are you sure you wanna do this?”.

Ivy shot him an annoyed look. “When I’m speaking then I am sure”.

“What about your match? It’s in a week”.

“Tina better not gimme any clotheslines”. Ivy smirked and gave the tattoo artists the ‘go ahead nod’

After the four hour process she was eager to take a picture. Kee had to admit it looked pretty cool and wanted a selfie with his newly inked sister.

Ivy wiped a stray tear rolling down her cheek.

They looked so goofy and happy in the picture. Ivy with her meticulously styled eyebrows and Kee with his damn eyes. Ivy always envied her brother’s blue eyes.

She sighed and threw her phone down next to her on the bed.

“Jesus, Kee. You should’ve been the one in this crappy motel room and I should be the one buried in the fucking cemetery”.

Ivy would trade places with her brother in a heartbeat, but she knows she can’t. All she can do now is go the Forge and do her best. The only thing she can give Kee now was her best.

No more snide remarks, no more phoning it in.

She needed to bring her A game. This was Ivy’s league after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: RileySav7


End file.
